


Fire

by KniiightMare



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming of Age, Gen, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, zuko learning to bend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-18 17:05:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18124070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KniiightMare/pseuds/KniiightMare
Summary: Zuko tries. He tries and he tries. But no matter his efforts, things do not come as easily to him as they do his sister. The problem is that after two years of firebending training, he is still unable to produce even the smallest flame.





	1. There are no strained family relationships in Ba Sing Se

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I just want to preface this by saying that I've been struggling with this story for a while now and I'm still far from satisfied with it, but right now I just feel like if I wait until I'm happy with this to post it, I'll never post it, so... That being said, I already have a lot of ideas for changes to this story and I might post a remix or edit or something later. But this version is already pretty much entirely written, so don't worry; I won't abandon it ;)

Zuko tries. He tries and he tries. But no matter his efforts, things do not come as easily to him as they do his sister. Bending, Zuko has recently learned, is no exception to this rule. He wants so desperately to succeed in firebending, to make some sort of progress. He doesn’t need to be the best, the most powerful or the most ruthless. He doesn’t even need to be better than Azula. He just wants to be good. In fact, right now, he’d settle for just  _ alright _ . As embarrassing as it is to admit, there’s no escaping the fact that Prince Zuko, grandson of Firelord Azulon and prince of the Fire Nation, cannot firebend. It is not that he lacks the ability; no, in fact his instructors, after meticulously studying his chi, have all ensured his increasingly distraught father that the young prince ought to have quite the aptitude for bending,  _ if he can just get the hang of it _ . See, Zuko’s problem is not that he’s unable to follow the more advanced techniques or that he lacks the discipline and determination necessary. The problem is that after two years of firebending training, he is  still unable to produce even the smallest flame.

Needless to say, Ozai is unhappy. His daughter’s seeming genius talent can only go so far to make up for the complete failure that is his son. Zuko tries very hard to be the kind of son his father could be proud of. He spends hours upon hours going through the steps of the most basic firebending moves, perfecting his stance, his technique, until even these rudimentary moves could take out the most skilled fighters—if only he had the fire to go along with them. The fire does not come however, and for each day the flame remains absent, Ozai will grow more sour, more disappointed. He does not notice his son’s discipline or his precision, because these things mean nothing to him, without the power to back them up.

Zuko does not give up on bending. That would be preposterous. His teachers have all said he will be able to do it one day, and they are all far too afraid of his father to lie about something of this magnitude. So Zuko keeps practicing, blocking out Azula’s cruel teasing and ensuring himself, once again, that he is just a late bloomer. That is all. While it is uncommon for a bender to not have begun learning their element by the age of thirteen, it’s not unheard of. But Zuko sees his father’s expression growing darker every day, and knows that while bending is far from a lost cause, it will never be a source of fatherly pride for Ozai, the impatient man in whose eyes good things are rarely worth the wait. Once Zuko realises this, he attacks every other aspect of himself, polishing and chipping away until he is the very image of the perfect son, adept not only in the theory of warfare, but also close quarter combat with nearly every weapon in the Fire Nation army’s arsenal (although he is particularly skilled with the dual broadswords). It seems futile however. His father’s disappointment in him, which stems from his failure to bend, permeates every aspect of their relationship, like a single drop of poison polluting a whole water tank, until nothing he does is ever good enough to elicit anything but a sneer of contempt from Ozai. No matter how far Zuko excels, there is always something to critique: in tactical battle scenarios he is always too meek, attempting diplomatic solutions rather than the more simple, forceful ones; in sword combat he dodges and evades too much, having a natural inclination for defense rather than offense. His father cannot accuse him of being a bad fighter, because he is not, so instead he calls him a coward, because by Fire Nation standards, he may well be.

A month after uncle Iroh breaks through the walls of Ba Sing Se, it’s arranged for Ozai’s family to come visit the newly annexed city, out of respect for Iroh, and in celebration of the successful siege. There have been some resistance movements in the city, but they have all been quelled quickly, and it’s deemed safe for the family to visit. Zuko is excited to see the city about which he has heard so many great things; his father has not yet managed to scowl all of the childish enthusiasm out of him. He’ll be happy to see his uncle too, even though the man is at times a bit peculiar. He is family after all, and he’s always treated Zuko well, certainly better than Ozai ever has. However, the trip also makes Zuko uneasy. He knows that his father harbours a great deal of resentment towards his brother for having the birthright to the throne. Unfortunately, basic manners prevent Ozai from expressing his anger in any form more direct than a passive aggressive comment every now and then. But while Iroh is protected from his brother’s wrath by social decorum, Zuko is not so lucky. His father will undoubtedly treat him even more coldly than usual on this journey, in an attempt to take out his anger on him.

Uncle Iroh and cousin Lu Ten personally greet them when they arrive at Ba Sing Se. Ozai makes snide remarks about the security of the guard and Azula does her best to look as bored and unimpressed as possible, and although Zuko is scared of his father (and a little of his sister too, although he’ll never admit it), in this moment he is just so tired of them. He thinks it must be so  _ boring _ to be unable to see life as anything other than a petty, unfair war. Uncle Iroh does not see life as a war, but perhaps more as a game of Pai Sho, with elements of strategy, as well as ones of chance, and lacking those dreadfully high stakes of war. Iroh wears the same serene look on his face when facing his brother’s thinly veiled insults as he does when playing the board game, and Zuko thinks that regardless of which metaphor is most accurate, Iroh is definitely the winner in this scenario.

Their belongings are transported by the servants to their rooms as they themselves are led directly to the recently claimed royal dining hall. They are served tea and Iroh and Lu Ten recount some of the many stories of the capture of Ba Sing Se. Conversation is kept at a level of formality appropriate for the royal family, and just underneath the polite surface the tension remains, fuelled by the fire in Ozai’s stomach. After this oh so joy filled social occasion, the customary pomp and circumstance of the Fire Nation follows, ever inescapable.

A large space is cleared in front of the long table at which they are seated. Iroh, Ozai and Ursa sit facing this makeshift stage, and Zuko and Azula sit next to their mother, Lu Ten next to his father. Iroh and Ozai, being the patriarchs of this small part of their family, are seated in the middle of the length of the table. The demonstrations go by age, in ascending order. First is Azula. She is only eleven, but she’s already begun her firebending training, and, unlike her brother, she is able to actually bend. She’s only been practicing for a few months, so she’s not practicing any sets yet. She doesn’t know the  _ Dancing Dragon _ or the  _ Prowling Lion _ , but when she twists her body out of the horse stance and lifts her leg up high, there is a bright red flame at the end of her foot. The flame is large, bright and hot. Although it’s not a difficult move, she executed it well. Zuko would like to comfort himself with the fact that the foot of her supporting leg wasn’t quite turned enough and that once she gets to more complicated forms that’ll come back to haunt her. He’d like to focus on all the tiny little things she could have done better, the things he  _ would _ have done better, but at the end of the day she can firebend, and he can’t. He can’t gloat over the things he gets right that she doesn’t because there is always that one elusive element that he can’t achieve—no matter how much he practices—which she has somehow mastered. She has the flame, and that’s what matters.

Next up is Zuko. He begins by demonstrating his bending sets. He glides through the complex movements with the kind of ease that comes with hours upon hours of practice. His footing is solid and his balance centered, yet the extension of his arm, the twist of his leg never grow choppy or heavy. He flows smoothly and precisely, like the river cutting through the land. He’s better at completing these sets than his sister, but is he better at bending? Is this even bending? Does controlling one’s body and chi even count when these seem to have no effect on the element itself? He ends the final set perfectly, not a millimeter out of line, and bows before looking at his family.

Ozai is scowling, as he always does when reminded of his son’s inadequacy. Zuko’s skill in the physical movements associated with bending does not seem to appease him. In fact, if anything, it might aggravate him even more. If Zuko was making mistakes, fumbling his landings or losing his posture, there would be something to fix, something that might enable him to firebend. As it is, there is no way to fix what’s wrong with Zuko, because to all outward appearances there isn’t anything wrong with him. Ozai doesn’t bother to mask the disapproval on his face. To the right of him Ursa is seated. She looks up at her son with a soft smile, a smile that looks almost fragile, as if the smallest disturbance could shatter it and send her into tears. It’s the smile of a woman who is proud of her son, but knows that this pride won’t mean a damn thing in the long run. Next to her, Azula is copying Ozai’s deprecating sneer. It looks strange, wrong, stretched across her juvenile features, and there is a wildness to it, a hint of malice that is not present in Ozai’s mask, as if she hasn’t yet learned to freeze the maelstrom of cruelty into a cold, unforgiving glacier.

He’s not done yet. He’s demonstrated his most recent advances in firebending, but that’s not the only battle form he’s studying. He picks up the dual broadswords that have been fetched for him and shows his forms for these weapons as well. He dances around an invisible foe, stepping forward to strike and then twisting to the side to avoid his imaginary opponent’s counterattack. The swords in his hands become extensions of his arms. They move as one singular being, guided by his thoughts and his wrists and his feet. This is what Zuko imagines bending must feel like: a force that is both part of him and not, a thing of the physical world, separate from his body, that becomes his through the movements he uses to manipulate it.

Once his dance is finished, he sheathes the metal and takes one final bow to his crowd. If Ozai looked unhappy with him before, he looks absolutely appalled now. Azula is still mimicking his curled lip and raised eyebrow, and Ursa still looks more like a tragic painting than a woman. Iroh and Lu Ten aren’t quite as dramatic though. They simply smile at him—real smiles, smiles that actually seem to mean ‘thank you for this lovely demonstration of your most recent studies’, and not ‘oh you poor child, how this cruel world will make you suffer’, as his mother’s does. Understandably, one of these alternatives feels more encouraging than the other. Zuko is  _ so _ tired of his family. They return his bow and he walks around the table, back to his seat between his mother and sister.

“That was tragic,” Azula spits as soon as his knees touch the floor. “You wouldn’t last five seconds in a real fight.”

Zuko resolutely ignores her.

Next, Lu Ten rises and takes his place on the floor. As soon as he begins to move, Zuko is enthralled. He already knew that his cousin was an excellent bender, but it’s one thing to know it and another to see such skill with one’s own eyes. Lu Ten is incredible. His flame is brighter than Azula’s and his form is better than Zuko’s. He moves as if fire is the ground he walks on, the food he eats when he is hungry, and the liquid he pours down his throat when he is thirsty. Fire isn’t just his; it’s  _ him _ . Zuko chances a look to his right and catches a glimpse of his father looking impressed. That is, he looks about as impressed as  _ His Royal Highness Prince Ozai _ ever does. Lu Ten’s set ends and after bowing, he too reaches for the dual broadswords and falls into a complicated dance of push and pull, give and take.

He’s better than Zuko. This much is only natural given that he’s not only several years older, but has also experienced actual combat, whereas the closest Zuko has ever gotten to such is sparring. Zuko finds himself just as entranced by Lu Ten’s dance with the blades as he was by his dance with fire. This is a different form of enthusiasm though. The fire was fascinating because it is completely foreign to Zuko. It’s something he can only look at and admire. This, however, is fascinating because it’s familiar. Zuko understands the broadswords. He knows how they feel and move in his hands, and even though he can’t perform them himself, he thinks he understands the balance, the intent, behind the slashes, the spins, and the parries through which Lu Ten is currently flowing. He can almost see the outline of Lu Ten’s enemy, can see the step forward, the stumble from the latest attack, the turn to regain balance, and then the charge. The spectre raises its weapon to strike at Lu Ten’s head. Lu Ten steps sideways with his outer foot and turns a full one hundred and eighty degrees, placing himself out of the line of the blow. He’s still turning though, momentum not yet dead. As his body turns, his swords rise up to strike his opponent's weapon out of his hands. He’s facing his foe head-on now, but the other fighter hasn’t yet had time to react to Lu Ten’s step and is facing forward when Lu Ten is really on his left. The speed of the spin transforms into power, enough to disarm the enemy and throw him off balance. The imaginary enemy doesn’t even know what hit him. It’s a beautiful maneuver, playful almost, in how it turns the attacker’s advances back on him.

Lu Ten holds his final stance for a second before straightening his legs and turning to the table. Zuko is sure his eyes must be wide as saucers and his jaw is probably on the floor somewhere, but Lu Ten doesn’t seem disturbed (unlike Azula, who whispers to him to ‘close your mouth before you catch flies’). Instead, his politely proper smile stretches into a grin as he meets Zuko’s eyes. He nods his head slightly at the younger boy and then bows to the crowd. As one, they bow back to him, thanking him for the performance.

“Well done, Lu Ten. That was a most enjoyable demonstration. Your finish was particularly impressive.” Zuko is surprised to hear his father praise someone so highly. He himself has never received such kindness, and if he thinks about it briefly, he’s not sure he’s ever heard his father be so lenient even on Azula. The young princess herself must have thought the same thing, because she’s currently sporting an undignified scowl, clearly jealous of the kind words bestowed upon their cousin. Lu Ten smiles and nods at Ozai, but his jaw is tense and his eyes are guarded. He was taught to play Pai Sho by his own father, and he’s learned never to underestimate any move, no matter how benevolent it may seem.

It’s late, the conversation and combat demonstrations having passed the hours quite efficiently, and it’s decided that the royal family will retreat to their respective beds, and start the day anew tomorrow. Zuko drifts off to dreams of ghosts armed with swords and Pai Sho pieces.

 


	2. Hot leaf juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea time and political intrigues.

The next day begins early, with Ursa waking Zuko and Azula up at sunrise, even though the two of them have no duties to attend to today. The three of them have breakfast together while Ozai is off discussing military strategies with uncle Iroh. Afterwards, Azula decides that she wants to take a tour of the city and Ursa goes with her, ostensibly to keep her out of harm’s way, although Zuko suspects she’s not so much worried about Azula  _ getting  _ hurt as her hurting someone else. Zuko decides not to join them, because while he would like to spend time with his mother, he would much rather spend time  _ away _ from his sister. So he’s left alone in the royal quarters with the promise to not leave the building or stray too far from the watchful eyes of the guards.

Zuko spends a few hours wandering around the palace, peeking curiously into various rooms and hallways. He settles a while in the small courtyard in the center of the palace. It’s different from the courtyard in the palace back home, the one where he used to play when he was younger, where he now likes to practice his bending. This yard has no turtleduck pond and barely any trees. Instead it sports a gravel covered ground and some stone benches on which to perch and…  not much else at all really. It feels much less lively than the one at home. Thinking back to the way his cousin had commandeered the flames yesterday, Zuko stands in the center of the courtyard and goes through the familiar motions of his firebending sets. He moves with strength and precision and takes care to direct his chi through the pathways inside him. He finishes the set with a final punch to the air, and when no fire emanates from his fist, he sets his jaw and returns to his starting stance. He goes through the set again and refuses to be disappointed when the results remain the same as last time, as every time. He begins the set again. Fire is not easily conquered, but Zuko is stubborn and he will not give up. Instead of lingering on his failures he focuses on the bright day when he will go through these very same motions and that final punch will set the air in front of him ablaze.

Zuko is just about to start the set for the fourth time when he is startled by the sound of hushed voices nearby. He whips his head around but sees no one in the courtyard with him. Curious, he walks silently over to the stone archway that leads to the interior of the palace. He peeks into the hallway and tries to locate the source of the sound. He spots them quickly, two men standing in a dimly lit part of the hallway, conversing in whispers. One of them is a guard, one of Iroh’s. He seems uncomfortable with the other man’s presence, clearly wishing for this exchange to end. The other one stands with a regal air, but there is a tenseness to his shoulders and an undignified anger to his whispered words. Zuko recognizes him instantly, even though he cannot see his face. The morning’s military meeting must have ended early. The guard seems to take the route of ignoring him altogether and in response, Ozai bites out one last hushed remark before storming off down the hallway. The words were too quiet for Zuko to make them out, but he knows that whatever was being said, it can’t have been good.

Ozai is sly, a truly great tactician, but his ambition gives him away. Even though his methods are hard to anticipate, his motive is easy to guess. Everything Ozai does is to acquire more power. And now he is sneaking around the palace, singing songs of deception in the ears of Iroh’s men. Zuko slides down the hallway in the opposite direction of his father. His steps are featherlight, so as not to alert the guard of his presence, just in case. He pads through the hall to the military quarters, and once he reaches his uncle’s door, he does not hesitate before knocking. He doesn’t have to wait for long before the door swings open.

“Ah, Prince Zuko! It is good to see you.” Iroh has a smile on his face, a genuine one, the kind that bares his teeth and crinkles his eyes. He does not invite Zuko in, simply leaves the door open behind him as he returns into the room, as if it’s absolutely obvious that Zuko is welcome here, in his private quarters, with no apparent reason for this unannounced visit. Zuko follows his uncle, closing the door behind him as he goes, before sitting down at the small table in the center of the room. He opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by his uncle handing him a cup of tea which he has procured seemingly out of nowhere. Zuko soldiers on despite this, intent on saying his piece.

“Uncle, I’ve come to speak to you about—”

“How are you, Prince Zuko? It has been some time since I last saw you. Your mother did mention in her letters that you have become quite the swordsman, but I was still surprised to see just how skilled you were yesterday!” Iroh is still smiling and it feels to Zuko as if he’s genuine, as if he really does care about his nephew’s life and endeavors. Zuko thinks of Ozai, who has never once spoken to his son about anything trivial. Ozai only ever asked about his studies, if he had learned the history of the Fire Nation properly, if he was familiar with offensive warfare yet,  _ if he could firebend yet. _ Zuko has always known that Ozai is a bad father, but as he sits here now, having tea and the beginnings of a friendly conversation with his uncle, he thinks that Ozai is perhaps not such a good tactician either, because Zuko, Ozai’s son, who should be loyal to him to the ends of the earth, does not think twice before turning on him.

“Uncle, I must speak to you about something I saw just now.” His voice and determination do not tremble.

“Oh? And what would that be?” Iroh’s eyebrows lift in slight surprise, but his eyes remain soft and fixed on Zuko.

Zuko recounts what he saw: his father’s attempts to speak to the guard, the rushed whispers with sharp edges, and Ozai’s agitated reaction to the stone wall he was faced with. Zuko speaks efficiently and precisely, before asking his uncle’s opinion on the matter.

“Do you think he’s planning something?”

Iroh sighs deeply, resting his eyes on the cup of tea in front of him, before returning his gaze to his nephew and giving his tired answer.

“Frankly, Zuko, I would be more surprised if my brother  _ wasn’t _ planning to overthrow me. Ozai has always had his eyes on the throne.” His voice is weary, as if he knew this would happen, but has still hoped it wouldn’t. It’s Zuko’s turn to stare at his tea. He tries to swallow past the lump in his throat as he considers the implications of this. The only way for Ozai to gain the right to the throne is if Iroh—

“Oh well, let us not spend more time discussing such serious matters. We will cross that bridge when we get to it. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what you have been up to since I last saw you.” Iroh’s smile is back in place. Although Zuko knows that his uncle has many troubling thoughts on his mind, the smile is real.

Zuko is still worried about what he has learned, but with some more prompting from his uncle, he speaks about his training, happy to discuss it with someone who sees his proficiency with the swords as a strength in its own right, rather than insufficient compensation for his many flaws. Iroh participates eagerly in the conversation, and between the calming tea and his uncle’s kind disposition, Zuko feels some of the most recent burns to his soul become soothed, angry blisters fading to soft silver scars. He finds himself wishing, not for the first time, that he had been born the son of Iroh instead of Ozai. He knows that Iroh would not only accept his own son’s inability to bend, but would find other things to be proud of, as he already does for Zuko.

“You are looking very solemn, nephew. I take it there is something bothering you?” There is nothing demanding in the question. If he wanted to, Zuko could deny it and they could continue to talk about happy things. Zuko sighs and meets his uncle’s inquiring gaze.

“I should be able to bend by now.” As the words leave his lips, his head falls in shame, even though he knows his uncle will not judge him.

“I see,” Iroh says contemplatively. “I believe that learning to bend is something that cannot be rushed. It will happen for you when it happens.” Zuko holds back a sigh of disappointment. He anticipated this reply. It’s what all his instructors have told him, and a very Iroh-like thing to say too.

“However,” Iroh continues, “even though I cannot tell you how to firebend, I can perhaps share some of the knowledge which has helped me learn over the years.” Zuko’s head snaps up and his eyes meet his uncle’s.

“Really?”

“Of course, Zuko. Although I must warn you that there is no recipe for success when it comes to bending. I cannot give you skill, only knowledge.”

Zuko nods enthusiastically.

“Very well then,” Iroh says and stands from the table, “show me your sets.”

Zuko rises as well and moves to the empty floor space beside the table. He takes the beginning stance of the set he is currently practicing. He remains like that for a moment, gathering his energy and his thoughts. He doesn’t want to rush through the set and make mistakes when his uncle is taking the time to help him. He goes through the movements slowly, slower than they would be used in battle, and focuses on guiding his chi through his body. He is satisfied with his execution of the set, but he produces no fire.

“Your form is excellent, Prince Zuko.” Zuko tries not to glow too hard under the praise to which he is so unaccustomed. Iroh stands next to Zuko, dropping into the horse stance as well.

“Fire comes from the breath. You must have control over your airflow before you can bend it.” He executes the first movement slowly, slower even than Zuko had performed it. “The flame comes from within you, from your anger, your fear, your love. Collect these feelings in your stomach and then channel them through your limbs.” Iroh continues through the rest of the set with a heavy strength in his limbs. He does not firebend, but he still demonstrates his points clearly. Zuko almost thinks he can see the chi running through every movement. He attempts to mimic his uncle’s motions, and although he knows he has not quite gotten the hang of it, Iroh still praises him on the things he does well, and gently corrects him on his mistakes. For the first time in a long while, Zuko ends practice with a feeling of accomplishment instead of disappointment, even though he does not manage to create fire today.

Zuko’s joy is only slightly dimmed by the tingling of trepidation at the memory of his father’s earlier actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm actually a bit happier with this chapter than with the last one, so I hope you liked it! Let me know in the comments if you did. And if you want to be notified when I post the two remaining chapters you can always subscribe to the story too. Anyway, thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading; I hope you like the story so far! The other chapters are already written so they'll be up soon; I just have to do some minor editing first. If you did like this chapter, comments are always greatly appreciated! Like I said, I'm not entirely happy with the way this is right now, but feedback is still useful!
> 
> Also, you should come talk to me on [tumblr](https://kniiightmarewrites.tumblr.com)!


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